


The Second Time

by kattytoofatty



Category: Cuffs (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Violence, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:33:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5522210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattytoofatty/pseuds/kattytoofatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First impressions are overrated anyway.</p><p>Trigger warnings for rape and domestic violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all,
> 
> I was not emotionally prepared for the end of Cuffs. Cannot believe Simon fucking Reddington. Bitch HOW DARE.  
> I wrote this to try and salvage the travesty of the BBC not renewing the series. And to try and deal with my emotions. I'm not.
> 
> Warnings for violence and rape. This one's pretty dark.
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time Simon met Tom he was sat at the bar in Revenge, looking for someone to spend the night with. It was not long after he'd broken up with Jake, and Simon was desperately trying to avoid thinking about how hurt he actually was when Tom had approached him. Dark hair, tan skin, a deep voice that made Simon's knees weak, Tom was everything he was looking for to take his mind off Jake. He was slightly taller than Simon, broader and stronger, with well-defined arms that looked like they could effortlessly pin Simon down while Tom fucked him till he screamed. And he did. Simon wasn't usually one for bottoming, he'd only done it a couple of times with Jake, but Tom did things with his tongue that made Simon's brain melt, and his fingers were fucking magical. His dick was a thing of beauty, thick and heavy, well-proportioned with it's owner, and made Simon's jaw ache whenever he sucked him off. Simon had always been a bit of a whore, but he was never so happy to spread his legs for somone as he was for Tom in the first month they were together. He took control with a quiet intensity that had all the give of a steel door, pinning Simon with his piercing eyes, that, if he thought about it, had a dark look to them, hiding something that made him uneasy in their depths. Looking back, Simon had had glimpses of that from the beginning, but he didn't notice it for what it was until it was far too late.

The first time Tom hit him, they'd been having a vicious argument, and Simon had been stunned for a few seconds before punching him back. Tom had managed to persuade Simon to move in with him (though to this day he isn't sure how), and was slowly starting to exercise more control over his life. Simon had noticed, and had tried to wrest that control back. They'd gone at each other for a few minutes, but as the weaker of the two, Simon had come off much worse. His entire left side had been bruised, and he'd smashed his hip against the counter where Tom had shoved him into it. Tom had apologised profusely the next day, doting on Simon, and when his bruises healed they had some pretty awesome make-up sex, and Simon forgot all about it. But something had been triggered, and Tom's behaviour became increasingly erratic, veering wildly from quietly brooding to explosively angry, spitting vile insults at Simon, flying off the handle for increasingly petty things. A sharp comment became a punch to the arm, a warning look became a swift kick to the stomach, and whereas before they'd simply shouted, Tom turned into a one-man lynch mob, stopping only when Simon bled or his screaming threatened to disturb the neighbours. Only every now and then, usually after a beating, Tom would become gentle and caring, showering Simon with soft kisses and apologies that he'd long since stopped believing.

The first time Tom raped him, Simon knew he should leave. At home, Tom seemed to exist in a perpetual state of simmering rage, periodically boiling over and unleashing his fury on Simon. Beatings had become an almost daily occurence, and Simon had taken to hiding the bruises with foundation and concealer, anything to avoid prying questions, particularly as Tom seemed to have forgotten his rule about not hitting Simon where it would show. Simon was becoming less and less interested in having sex with Tom, usually only going along with it to avoid being hurt, rolling over onto his front so Tom wouldn't see how disinterested he was. Looking back, he knows that all those times were rape as well, but he'd always denied it, telling himself that technically he'd never explicitly said no, too afraid to admit how bad it truly was. One evening Tom had come home from work absolutely livid. Simon has no idea what had happened, he'd never dared to ask, but Tom's anger had completely enveloped the place, smothering Simon until he thought he might suffocate. He'd prowled round the flat all evening, pacing and snapping at Simon, the tension building and building until Simon, terrified and shaking, dropped the bottle opener on the floor. Tom flew into a frenzy, too angry for words as he roared at Simon, literally tearing his clothes off his body, ripping holes in the fabric of his t-shirt and breaking the zip on his jeans, arms pinning him down as Tom forced himself into his unprepared body. Simon screamed and cried as Tom tore him apart, begging and pleading with him to stop, and he knows the neighbours heard him, but no one came round to help him, and when he saw them in the hallway the next morning, they simply smiled vacantly at him before hurrying past. Simon had never felt more alone than he did in that moment.

The first time Tom put him in hospital he'd beaten him so badly it took him three days to wake up. Simon doesn't remember what happened, but when he woke up and they told him Tom had been arrested, he remembers wishing he'd died. His ribs, right arm, left leg and jaw had been broken, and there were hairline fractures to his pelvis; he had concussion and short-term memory loss, and needed a feeding tube and an IV to get nutrients into him. He was also on a morphine drip, which he tried to overdose on until they took the button away from him so he couldn't self-administer anymore. He spent the first few days drifting in and out of consciousness, in so much pain he could barely breathe. DI Felix Kane came to talk to him about making a statement, pressing charges, but the idea of making this public, of everyone knowing what Simon had let Tom do to him had brought on a panic attack and set Simon's ribs back a couple of days. DI Kane didn't come back until Simon was discharged a month later. He sat on the chair opposite Simon, who was on the bed, staring at his shoes. He listened vacantly as DI Kane spoke about Tom being charged for assaulting him, about him being imprisoned, about him not being able to hurt him again, and Simon thought that that was bollocks, Tom would always be able to hurt him. He saw his neighbours again as he arrived back at the flat. They looked at him sadly, and said if Simon needed anything he should just ask; again, Simon thought that that was bollocks, he needed them months ago and they hadn't even tried.

The first time Simon told Jake everything he could barely get his words out through his tears, and he's amazed that Jake managed to understand him as he choked on his sobs. Jake had arrived at Simon's door about a week after he was discharged. He had stumbled over his words, saying that he'd been worried about Simon, he'd wanted to visit, hadn't ever found the time, they'd been busy with the case ... he'd trailed off, staring awkwardly at Simon's feet. Simon invited him in and they had coffee. It was the most relaxed Simon had felt in the flat since he'd moved in. They'd only talked about safe things, steering clear of Tom, the case, their relationship, and Jake had done most of the talking, Simon's tongue had tied itself in knots. Since then Jake started to come round more frequently, and slowly they started to open up to each other. In a way they were closer now than they ever were when they'd been together, and Simon found himself wanting to tell Jake about Tom. They were walking along the beach one day, basking in the warmth of the late-Spring sunshine, a brisk wind making them walk closer together (definitely the wind). They found a secluded spot, a small dip in a sand dune, perfect size for the two of them to snuggle up to each other, Simon comfortable enough around Jake to cuddle up close, winding their arms around each other, Simon's head nestled on Jake's chest. The sound of the waves lapping against the shore threatened to send Simon to sleep. He began to speak, words tumbling out, tears staining Jake's jumper. Jake never said a word as Simon spoke, instead pulling him closer, threading his fingers through his hair. Simon stumbled through his story, barely stopping for breath, he knew if he stopped he wouldn't start again. They lay there for a while in the quiet after he'd finished, the thudding of Jake's heartbeat under Simon's ear helping to ground him. They were disturbed when Jake's stomach rumbled. He blushed, pink flaring across his cheeks, down his neck and across his ears, and Simon felt his breath catch in his throat. He'd always found Jake beautiful, nothing had changed that. Jake blushed again when he told him. He smiled widely, bringing a hand up to cup Simon's face, and Simon knew how far he'd come when he didn't flinch away from him. Jake pulled his face towards him, kissing his forehead. He pulled back, resting his cheek against Simon's forehead; Simon nudged his chin with his nose, until Jake pulled back far enough for Simon to press a kiss to his cheek. Jake stroked Simon's face, wiping the tear tracks from his cheeks with his thumb. Their faces were so close their breath inter-mingled. Simon could smell the mint of Jake's toothpaste, feel the fluttering of his eye lashes against the side of his cheek as his eyes closed. Simon felt Jake brush his lips against his, angled his head and pushed his face up and into Jake's, pressing their lips together more firmly.

The first time Simon and Jake had been a couple they'd crashed and burned faster than the Hindenburg. Maybe the second time they'd be more successful.


End file.
